


Off to See the Wizard

by chinchillasinunison



Category: The Wizard Of Oz (1939), ワンパンマン | One-Punch Man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wizard of Oz Fusion, Gen, Minor Character Death, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-11-18 23:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18127886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinchillasinunison/pseuds/chinchillasinunison
Summary: Saitama lives in a drab, lifeless urban world until a tornado (and the feisty girl inside) whisks him away to the magical Land of Z, full of wicked witches, talking scarecrows, cowardly lions, and pretty boys made out of tin.(Please don't let those edgy looking tags dissuade you; this is pretty lighthearted, I just wanted to tag them just in case because those elements are present.)





	1. Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Saitama’s world was soaked in sepia tones. It had not always been that way. The world was a bright and beautiful place when he was young, full of promise. But here he was, unemployed and without a speck of color in his life to speak of. The skies to him always felt clouded now, though at this very moment they literally were. He walked down the street, against the tide of rushing people, against the harsh winds that blew his dark bangs into his eyes and the rain that drenched his hoodie. The people were yelling, panicking, running inside for protection from the coming storm. One might’ve screamed for him to do that same. The shouts from the crowd and the sirens’ distant wailing fell on deaf ears. Shelter? Why should he find shelter? It’s not like he would have anything to come back to afterwards. His apartment building was so run down, he was sure it would topple over from these gales alone. And beyond that? What did he even have to live for?

Yes, Saitama tired of this world. This sad, sad world. It tethered him, this muddy plane, while his mind wandered to the world beyond. Beyond financial troubles, or office deadlines he’d never fill, or expectations he’d never meet.  _ Where troubles melt like lemon drops, away, above the chimney tops… _

Maybe he’d finally see a rainbow again. Maybe he’d actually  _ feel _ something when he sees it.

The winds were picking up even more. Trees planted in sidewalks were ripped up by their roots, street signs warped to the weather’s whims, and just before him, in Z-City Square, a tornado ravaged the urban landscape, as indifferent to the destruction as himself.

It wasn’t long until he was swept up as well, not even attempting to fight the natural force’s might. The updraft dragged him along effortlessly, up the cyclone’s clouded walls, bobbing and weaving among scraps of skyscrapers. He was... flying, flying completely at the storm’s mercy. He smiled and laughed and howled with wonderful terror, rain stinging his face, nerves within sparking to life. Only now, in the face of death, did he feel truly alive after all this time. He was almost sad, then, that he likely wouldn’t live much beyond this. But still, it’ll be quite the way to go…

It was then that he spotted her. She looked like a teenage girl in a black dress and striped leggings, her brow furrowed. Saitama had hardly any preservative instincts for himself anymore, but with others it was a different story. He rode the winds as close as he could towards her.

“Kid, are you okay?!” he bellowed above the tornado’s roar, reaching a hand out to her.

She jumped in her suspension, spooked by another presence, then scowled. “Kid?!” she parroted back, offended, “How dare you!”

“Look, it’s gonna be okay!” he lied. “Don’t be scared! You can use me as a shield or a buffer when we hit the ground, if you want! I’ll keep you safe!”

She slapped his hand away, “What are you insinuating, idiot?! That I can’t control my own tornadoes?! I’ll have you know that I’m far more powerful than the likes of you will ever be!”

Her slap was surprisingly painful, somehow that petite frame hid a lot of force, enough to make him yelp in pain. “What are you talking about?! I’m just trying to help you not die! Why are you being such a brat?!”

_ “BRAT?!” _ she screeched, “That’s it! You’re gonna pay for that right now!” Her hair’s curled ends flared out even more than they already were, and she appeared to glow.

Saitama had no idea what she was doing, but he knew whatever it was, it wasn’t good, so he defended himself in the only way he could think of.

He suckerpunched her in the face.

Her whole body reeled from the blow. Whatever strange force it was that kept her aloft lost its grip, and she fell like a ragdoll, eyes wide with shock and staring up at him, her hand holding her cheek. In fact, with her defeat, all the winds died. Saitama felt his heart stop in his chest. He, the girl, and the debris that the tornado had picked up along the way suddenly went careening down, down, down.


	2. Ding-Dong! The Witch Is Dead!

The next thing Saitama knew, he was on the ground, his face pressed against a slab of concrete that was once a wall. Huh. He didn’t die in the fall. That was… something. Back to the drawing board, he supposed.

He hoisted his head up gradually, his neck aching from the impact.

His jaw dropped.

He had landed in some peculiar town square. Dappled about before him were clusters of adorable little thatch roof houses, set before two roads that spiraled into each other and split at a fountain near the center. Aside from man-made structures, huge blossoming flowers sprouted across the landscape. The thing that struck Saitama the most, however, were the colors. Not only were they present, they were rich and vibrant. The fountain’s water was sparkling sapphire, the giant lily pads deep emerald. The colossal blooms were nearly every hue of the rainbow, and the vegetation beneath them was viridescent. The two swirling roads were bright yellow and brick red respectively. Beyond the tiny village, he spied rolling olive hills and skies clear and blue.

“I’ve a feeling I’m not in Z-City anymore...” he said to himself. He rose to his feet and drifted through the square, eyes hanging onto every detail.

He mused aloud, “Maybe… it actually worked… maybe I really did…”

Something floating down from the sky caught his attention. It looked like a bubble, with strange slashes of cerulean running throughout just across the surface. As it came closer, he realized it was quite big, about the size of a person. When it touched the ground, it popped, revealing a white-haired old man had been within.

“If so, then this is a pretty oddball afterlife…”

The man walked over to him and gave him a curious once-over, “And what sort of wizard are you?”

“Wizard? I’m not a wizard.”

His thick eyebrows pushed up apologetically, “Ah! Terribly sorry, miss! My eyes aren’t as good as they used to be! What sort of _witch_ are you?”

His cheeks went rosy, “Wha-- a wit-- I’m not a wizard _or_ a witch at all! I’m just a normal person! I’m Saitama, from Z-City.”

“Oh! Well then, I’m a little muddled. I came here because I saw a new wizard drop a concrete slab on the Tornado Witch of Terror.” He pointed to the spot Saitama had just been laying, “And there’s the slab,” his finger trailed back to him, “and here you are,” he pointed back to the bit of wall, “and _that’s_ all that’s left of the Tornado Witch of Terror.”

Saitama looked back and saw something poking out from under the concrete. It was the arms of that girl, he could tell because of the long black sleeves of her dress. On her hands, he just now noticed, were bright red glittery gloves that looked a bit too big for her.

“And so what I’d like to know is what sort of wizard you are,” the man concluded.

“But I’ve already told you, I’m not a wizard at all-- wizards aren’t real. They’re bearded dudes in starry robes people spray paint on the side of vans.”

The old man laughed.

“What?”

“Son, I am a wizard! I’m Bang, the Fanged Wizard of Silver!”

“Uh, okay, sorry,” he responded, awkward, “Ya know, you were just riding around in a bubble, so I guess that one’s pretty much all on me.”

He made a noise that seemed the beginnings of a chuckle, then looked back at the itty-bitty buildings.

“So what, you live here? The houses look a little small...”

“Oh, no, I live up on the mountains back there. This is Munchkin City, capital of Munchkinland, home of the Munchkins. I’m sorry they’re not out and about to congratulate you, I already had them evacuate before the Tornado Witch arrived.”

“Congratulate me? For crushing a little girl?”

His face became more serious, “Oh, the Tornado Witch of Terror was no little girl. She was a monster. She’s victimized the Land of Z for ages with her extraordinary powers, and Munchkinland in particular. She once decimated the enter town of Munchkin Glen on impulse.”

Saitama winced, “Yikes.”

“Yes, so you can understand how miraculous this news will be for them, they’ve been waiting so long for her to croak,” Bang slung his arm over his shoulders in an affable gesture, “They wrote a whole song and dance number about it and everything.”

“Oh no, I’m so upset I didn’t get to see that,” Saitama said sardonically.

Bang chuckled and his gaze trailed off to the horizon, then snapped back to him in remembrance. “You know, son, if what you’re saying is true and you’ve got no magic, you should take those gloves. There’s many mighty beings in this land, it’s good to have something to protect yourself with.”

“Oh… okay.”

It felt a bit morally bankrupt to rob a girl’s corpse and put on her accessories, but he figured Bang knew the customs of this land better than he did, and she’d apparently been so horrible before, so in this Land of Z it must be a somewhat acceptable thing to do. When her little hands were exposed to the elements, the body of the Tornado Witch of Terror melted into a fizzling pile of mint green goo.

“Wow, gross.”

He distracted himself from the off-putting sight by focusing on the ruby gloves as he slipped them on. They fit his hands snuggly, as one would expect, and had the same texture and feel of normal rubber gloves despite their sparkle and alleged magical strength. He tested them, curling his fingers into fists a few times. When he looked up at Bang after all this the old man’s face was perplexed.

“Well, that’s a bit disconcerting,” he said.

“What?”

A clump of black fluttered downwards in Saitama's periphery.

He blinked. “Wait.”

He rushed over to fountain, even more flitting away in his haste. When he peeked at his reflection in the water, most of his hair had already fallen out.

“Aw, what the hell!”

“I suppose you’re really not a wizard or witch after all,” commented Bang.

“No shit. I already told you that.”

“I thought you were just acting humble,” he admitted.

Bang sat on the fountain’s edge and stroked his moustache, “It is a testament to your physical fortitude, though. A charmed article like that from a witch that powerful on most non-magic users would cause much more damage than simple balding.”

Saitama sat beside him. “It’s probably the most embarrassing kind, though,” he grumbled.

**_BOOM!_ **

They twisted back to the concrete chunk and saw a puff of teal smoke, and a female silhouette within.

“I thought you said she was dead!”

“That was the Tornado Witch of Terror. This is the Blizzard Witch of Hell, her sister.”

He squinted, baffled, “Who comes up with these names?”

“Who killed my sister?! Who killed the Witch of Terror?! How?! Answer me!” she demanded, charging forward. She didn’t seem quite vicious like her sister was in the cyclone, her tone was hysteric. Her pupils were mere dots and her short dark green hair was frazzled.

Saitama went on the defensive, “Hey, hey! It was an accident, miss! I didn’t mean to kill anybody!”

“An accident, eh? Likely story! An acci…”

Her gaze leered down at the ruby gloves, eyes hungry and horrified, “Th- those gloves. Give me those gloves! They were my sister’s! Give them back!” She made grabbing motions at them, but Saitama held them just out of react.

“You’re too late!” Bang chimed, almost gloating, “There they are, and there they’ll stay!”

“Hand over those gloves right now!” she commanded Saitama, “You don’t even know how to use them! What good are they to you?!”

“Keep them on tight, son,” advised Bang, “She wouldn’t want them so badly if their magic wasn’t potent.”

“You stay out of this, Bang, or else I’ll fix you right alongside him!”

Bang tisked and shook his head, “Oh, what rot! Munchkinland is under my protection, and your magic can’t even begin to match mine or your sister’s. You have no power here. Be gone, or else our friend here will drop a wall on you, too.”

She took in a few deep breaths, calming somewhat. “Fine-- I’ll bide my time--” she turned her attention back to Saitama, “and as for _you_ … it’s true, I can’t attend to you here and now as I’d like, but I know you can’t hide here forever. And when you do leave, I’ll be lying in wait, like a snake ready to strike! I’ll get you, baldy, just you wait and see!”

She backed away from the pair, stumbling a little in her heels, and disappeared in a cloud of teal fire and smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya know maybe Tatsumaki would be a better WWotW since she's more hot-headed than Fubuki but I mean... her name literally translates to tornado, man, I had to capitalize on that if I was retelling THIS story...


	3. Follow the Yellow Brick Road

Saitama stared at the spot the woman had occupied for several minutes. “What the hell was that?” he said finally.

“That was the Blizzard Witch of Hell,” Bang replied, as if that were news, “I’m afraid you’ve made a nasty enemy today, my young friend.”

He rubbed his temples in little circles and whined, “God. This feels like a weird magic soap opera and I don’t wanna deal with it.”

Bang nodded in agreement. “The sooner you get out of Z altogether, the safer you’ll be.”

Saitama grimaced. He didn’t really want to go back home, but if it meant not having to deal with witch family drama…

“How could I do that? I obviously can’t go the way I came.”

“That’s true. The only one who might know is Blast, the Wonderful Wizard of Z himself.”

“He’s not crazy or evil like those sisters, right?”

Bang shook his head, “Oh, no, no. A bit of a recluse, but nothing too bad. He lives in the Emerald City, which is a long journey from here. As you’re not a wizard and therefore can’t fly, you’ll have to hoof it.”

“Why don’t you just take me in one of your bubbles?”

He sat up a bit, cracking his old bones, “Kid, my magic’s not what it used to be. Do you think those witches could snoop into this domain otherwise?”

Saitama shrugged a shoulder, “Fair point.”

He stood up and looked around, “So, like, do you have directions to get to this place? ‘Cause I don’t see any street signs anywhere.”

“Oh, that’s the easiest part!” said Bang with a wave of his hand, “You just follow the yellow brick road! It takes you straight there!”

Saitama looked to his feet, and found he was already standing on it. He glanced back to the ambling beginnings of the roadway and ahead to the rolling hills in the distance, a yellow line cutting through the greenery and repeated, “Follow the yellow brick road…”

“Well, that seems simple enough,” he said to Bang.

He stood up, “Good luck on your journey, Saitama. I’ll be rooting for you.”

“Thanks.”

Bang made some odd hand gestures around himself, blue light trailing off of them. Soon, his bubble formed, and he floated away.

“Man, people come and go so quickly around here,” Saitama remarked to no one, scratching his bald head.

And so, he headed out of Munchkin City, off to see this Wonderful Wizard of Z.

 

* * *

 

“Damn, this is boring,” he said after a while of walking through the lonely hills of Munchkinland. Since his investment in this goal was already tenuous, he was in no rush. “I’m gonna take a break.”

The Blizzard Witch watched him through her crystal ball in the comfort of her castle as he laid down in the grass by the side of the road. She had regained her composure since their meeting, but couldn’t hide her annoyance.

“What does he think he’s doing? Is he teasing me, just laying there by the border?”

She posed this to a bespectacled member of her personal guard, who knew better than to answer rhetoricals.

“How unsportsmanlike! I can hardly cast spells on him while he’s there,” she continued, “I guess I’ll have to conjure something up to get him moving.” She walked over to the potions on her shelf and picked out a bottle, pouring the smoking contents over the ball.

The sunshine, drying out his rain saturated clothes and warming him up, almost caused him to fall asleep right there. That was, until the light that shown through his eyelids was blotted out and a glob of _something_ splat onto his forehead.

Looming over him, he discovered when he opened his eyes, was a gigantic dog-like creature. It was jet black with gnarled fur and three sets of glowing red eyes running down its muzzle. Its maw was slightly parted and lined with huge fangs dripping with drool.

“Oh hey… puppy?” he said with a confused squint.

It growled, the gaps between its teeth shining and smoking.

“You’re a big boy, aren't ya?”

In the split second its mouth opened and Saitama saw the blaze building in its throat, he rolled over to dodge the bark-accompanied blast. He got up and ran as the beast barked like mad, the energy bursts just missing him and scorching the grassy hills on the other side of the road.

“Quiet down, you bad dog.”

It snarled further, charging its energy blasts. Clearly, this dog needed some discipline. He pressed forward, right up to the monstrous mutt.

“Sit!”

He hit it on the nose. Despite only doing it very lightly in his mind, the glove flared with red on the impact and the mongrel let out a loud, sharp whine. The Blizzard Witch saw the ground crack beneath him from the shockwave, and her creation explode into a cloud of red smoke.

“What?! All that in one punch? That was one of my strongest spells!”

The red dust cleared, revealing the massive canine had shrunk to the size of a normal dog, and was actually sitting.

“Oh, cool,” said Saitama, “Roll over.”

It rolled over.

“Speak.”

It yapped, little sparks flying from its mouth but nothing more.

“Huh. Guess I got a dog now,” he observed, “A spooky six-eyed demon dog.”

He clicked his tongue and pointed to the yellow brick road, “Alright, Rover, let’s get back to it.”

Rover ran off ahead to the Munchkinland border, tail wagging, and Saitama strolled behind.

“Yes... that was my intention all along. To, uh, give him a companion to motivate him to keep going. Right into my clutches. Yes… everything is going to plan.”

The guard beside her discreetly rolled his eyes beneath the shine of his glasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire chapter's existence was mostly just an excuse to convolute in Rover as Toto by any means necessary even though this started with a pre-series Saitama. love that little hellhound.


	4. If I Only Had a Brain

Soon, the landscape around Saitama and his canine companion changed. The hills smoothed to plains and the grasses were replaced with fields of corn and wheat and run-down wooden fences. At one of the cornfields ahead, the yellow brick road branched off into two paths. He stopped and deliberated over which way to go.

“Oh, yeah, just follow the yellow brick road, that's all you have to do! It's simple!” he echoed Bang mockingly. He looked down to the dog, “Well, Rover, looks like we're at an impasse. We’ll have to guess which way and hope for the best, unless there's somebody around who can help us…”

Rover sniffed at the air, which was peculiar because he didn't appear to have a nose, and yipped. He bounded through the gaps in the fence and into the cornfield.

“Hey, Rover! Rover! Come back here!” he ordered.

Rover didn't come.

Saitama huffed, “Of course.” He stepped over the fence and followed him through the corn stalks.

“Roooover! Rooooooooover!”

He whistled.

Rover woofed over and over. Saitama followed the racket until he came across a cleared out little area in the middle of the field. Rover stood there in a wide stance, quiet now, turning his head to Saitama and wagging his tail. If he had a tongue, Saitama imagined it would be lolling out. On a long wooden pole before them, arms out wide, was a scarecrow. A very beaten up scarecrow. Its burlap face had three patches that may have been taken as facsimiles for a nose and cheeks were it not for their odd colors and slightly off placement. The clothes that made up most of it seemed to originally be all black, but large orange patches now covered the chest and shoulders. Even this was not enough, with a yellow patch here, and a red patch there, some brown strips in spots, and a discarded green bowl strapped to the head to stop the overflow of brown leaf stuffing. It was sorry looking sight.

“Yeah, I don't think that's going to help us, buddy. We need somebody to give us directions.”

“Oh, I'd love to help you out!” a voice chimed.

The noise gave him a little start and slowly he craned his head up to the patchwork figure, which was obviously the source of the voice but he was regardless wary to believe so.

“Hello!” the scarecrow greeted, smile broad on his fabric face. In place of eyes were two oval-shaped silver buttons, smooth and flat and glossy and somehow friendly despite their inorganic quality.

“Uh… hi,” Saitama said back after a beat. He didn't know why in this adventure with witches and giant monster dogs and people riding around in bubbles a talking scarecrow is what made him take pause, but it was.

“Did you say you needed help?”

“Uh, yeah, I need directions to the Emerald City. Specifically, from the fork in the road this field makes.”

“The Emerald City! Oh, I know the way!” he rocked on the pole with excitement, “The path there runs through Gillikin Forest. That's where my leaves are from! I'd be happy to show you!”

“Great.”

They both stared at each other in silent anticipation for a minute or two.

“You… can't get down, can you?”

The scarecrow shook his head, still smiling, “Nope!”

“Alright,” Saitama sighed, “lemme see what I can do…”

He went to the other side of the pole and assessed it.

“You know,” the scarecrow went on, tossing his head back as he spoke, “I'm not much for thinking of how to do things, on account of not having a brain, but if you jiggle out the n--”

Saitama selected the simplest option: punch the thing with his magic gloved fist. The whole post cleaved in two, the upper half sent flying across the field, the scarecrow screaming. Rover ran after it, barking. He landed beyond the stalks with a very loud crash.

Saitama peeked out from the edge of the field, “Dude, are you okay?”

He didn't look okay. While the wood of the pole had shattered to splinters, he was now partially impaled on the fence post through the belly and his bowl helmet had fallen off, scattering leaves from his head across the yellow road.

“No, no, I'm fine! This sort of thing happens all the time to me! It doesn't hurt!” He lifted himself off the fence post and let himself plop onto the road. Sitting against the fence, he opened one of the little pouches that lined the rope tying off his midsection, and pulled out a needle and thread. As he sewed himself back up, Saitama made himself useful by gathering up the shrewn leaves in the bowl. When he finished up, he presented it to the scarecrow.

“Thanks!” He took it and secured the helmet and leaves to his head. “Say, did I scare you just now, when I fell?”

“No, I just thought you hurt yourself.”

His smile wavered, “But I didn't scare you?”

“No, of course not.”

He frowned, “I didn't think so.”

A crow, curious about all the commotion, flapped over to the field and perched itself on the fence.

“Boo! Scat! Get out of here!”

The bird, unfazed, hopped to the scarecrow’s shoulder, pulled at some of his leaves, and flew away after losing interest.

“See! I can't even scare a crow!” he slumped, holding his face in his hands, “Those birds come from miles around just to eat in my fields and peck at me!”

“That sucks, man.”

“Oh, I've failed this place,” he lamented, “And I'll tell you what: it's because I haven't got a brain. If I did, maybe I could figure out how to do it right...”

Rover sat and pitched his head to the side, scruff of his neck pointing down the road.

“Hey, scarecrow,” Saitama tapped him on the shoulder, “I'm going to the Emerald City to see the wizard Blast so he can send me home. I'm sure if he can do that, he can get you some brains.”

“You… you mean you'd like me to come along?”

“Yeah, man, as long as you're okay with me being stalked by a wicked witch.”

“Witch?” he scoffed, “I'm not afraid of no witch! I'm not afraid of anything! Excepting maybe a lit match…”

“So…?”

The scarecrow bounded to his feet, cheering, “We’re off to see the wizard!” He stumbled over his floppy stuffed legs, Saitama snatching him by the collar before he fell to the ground. He let go and the scarecrow steadied himself, then offered him an elbow to interlock his with.

“To Blast?”

Saitama walked ahead, “Yup.”

The scarecrow hung back a moment, a little confused, then rushed in his wobbly stride to catch up with the other two.


	5. If I Only Had a Heart

Saitama crunched on the apple, its skin almost as bright a red as the ruby gloves that held it and a few more of its kin.

The scarecrow looked over at his haul nervously, “Are you sure you should be eating those?”

“What? They're apples. You eat them,” he retorted, voice muffled by the mouthful of fruit.

“I suppose so, but you swiped them off a sentient tree monster… and punched the whole thing to smithereens.”

“Listen, buddy, when you’ve squatted as long as I have, you learn to take whatever opportunities come to you. Sometimes, they come in angry tree monsters that try to kill you for picking their apples,” he shrugged a shoulder, “Doesn't mean those apples aren't any good.”

The scarecrow dropped the matter, figuring that perhaps it made more sense to people who have brains or a need to eat. Rover begged to Saitama with six red puppy dog eyes, ahead of the pair and doing a little sidestep, mouth open and dripping.

“Alright, alright. Quit fussing…” He tossed the creature one, which he caught and eviscerated on the spot.

“What kind of dog is that, anyway?”

“Dunno, just picked him up today.”

“And he's got a name already?”

“I mean, yeah? I just called him that on a whim, and he seems cool with it, so I guess that's his name now.”

The scarecrow hummed sadly, and Saitama realized something.

“Shit. Did I forget to ask you what your name was?”

“Well, so did I, but…”

“Damn, I feel bad now,” he threw away the core, which Rover also caught and ate, “Mine's Saitama. What's yours?”

“I was just about to say, it doesn't matter because I don't have one. The Munchkin who stuffed me never gave me a name.”

“Well that's a jerk move. Isn't that like, technically your parent?”

“Eh, I hardly knew him. He abandoned the field after it turned out he didn't have the right permits for the land.”

“You need permits to farm?”

He nodded.

Saitama giggled. “So, what, you're an unlicensed scarecrow?”

“Yes, why is that funny?”

“It’s nothing. I'm just thinkin’ about somebody arresting a scarecrow. Like, knocking it down and cuffing it for just… standing there. It's a silly thing to imagine, ‘specially where I'm from, since scarecrows aren't alive there...”

The scarecrow's gaze trailed off. The trees in these parts were much taller and less scantily dispersed. A log cabin sat not a long ways off.

“How's Mumen sound?”

Now it was the scarecrow's turn to laugh.

Saitama defended himself, “Okay, so I'm not the most creative person in the world, but I mean, it's better than me only calling you by what you are. It’d be like if you just called me ‘person.’”

“No, no, I like it, it's funky,” he assured, “I think I'll keep it.”

He was quiet a moment, then repeated it to himself with a little smile and a snicker, “Mumen Scarecrow…”

They were coming into range of that cabin now. A peculiar glinting character by a tree near the road caught Mumen's button eye, and made him jerk to a stop. It was a young man, seemingly, frozen in a battle stance. The bark on the tree before him and a good chunk of the wood had been stripped away and lightly scorched, presumably by his blows. The majority of his body was made of tin, though his face was cast in pale, fine porcelain. He had a mop of blonde hair and black voids for eyes.

Saitama squinted at the figure, flummoxed, “The hell is that?”

“It's some sort of tin… man.”

“It looks demonic. It's got the face of a doll from a horror movie.”

A beat of staring followed, all of them static excluding Rover, who pawed at Saitama to get him to give more food. Finally, Mumen made a move towards the tin man, but a gloved hand held him back.

“Dude, what are you thinking?”

“I'm not thinking anything. I haven't got the brains for it,” he reminded him, “But he’s obviously stuck, just like I used to be, so I think I ought to help him!”

He stepped forward and attempted to move the metal figure. Obviously, as basically a bag of dead leaves, he didn't affect him much at all despite his best efforts.

“Oh, alright…” Saitama rolled his eyes and dropped his apples as he walked over to help, Rover excitedly scarfing them up. With the slightest touch of a single finger, he pivoted the tin man away from the tree. Upon being jostled, the metal arms fell to his sides, though the hands were still clenched in fists.

“So, now what?”

“Well, he’s looking pretty dead. We need to jumpstart him, somehow…”

“I've got these magic gloves I took from a witch,” he put up his arms to display them, “Do you think they'll do? I don't know how I'd use ‘em for this, though.”

“Couldn't hurt to try!”

Saitama accepted that reasoning and stepped back a bit, looking the tin man over and trying to figure out how to go about this. These things worked by impact, didn't they? That's how they made Rover small, more manageable like he wanted. But he had to do it just right, firm but still ginger enough, or risk destroying him entirely. He sucked in a breath, surged forward, and gripped the metal man by the shoulders. The gloves emitted a bright red flash, accompanied by one from within the figure that could be seen through the seams of his joints. It faded from brilliant red to a faint honey colored glow and golden irises sparked to life in his black eye sockets. They searched Saitama's face quizzically.

“Hey, whaddya know, it actually worked,” he glanced over to Mumen with a surprised little smirk. The tin man’s eyes fixed on the ruby gloves and widened. His fist flew for Saitama's face, but he dodged it expertly.

He backed off a little, “Hey, man, what's the matter?”

“You should know, witch!” he barked. He rushed him, unleashing a flurry of punches which Saitama blocked with his forearms. At the same time, he launched into a monologue that was just as fast yet even more dense, as if it had been building up inside him for however long he’d been out here and could only now burst free. There was something about Munchkins, something about tinsmiths, but Saitama could barely process any of it. The word vomit bothered him more than the attack itself.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! If you're gonna scream at me while we're fighting, keep it short! Twenty words or less!”

The tin man paused, his breath heaving, the light within him blazing, “My name is Genos, formerly a Munchkin and now the avenger of Munchkin Glen. I have waited  _ years _ for this.”

He drew his arm back and thrust it towards Saitama's head with a shout. It was quite a powerful blow, punching a smoldering hole clean through the tree behind his target. His joints squeaked as he jerked himself away and back, trying to pull his arm out of the tight crevice he just created.

“Wait... Munchkin Glen?” said Saitama, having made a split second move to the side. That name, Bang had mentioned it. It was a town that girl had destroyed...

“Oh, I get it! What we’ve got here is a case of mistaken identity.”

Genos ripped his stuck arm out. “Stop moving, witch!” he growled.

“Man, come on now, do I look like a witch to you?” he asked with crossed arms and a raised eyebrow.

“W-well, obviously you cast some sort of glamor on yourself! Those gloves gave you away, Tornado Witch of Terror!”

Saitama rolled his eyes, “Oh, please. If could do that, I wouldn't be a bald guy. Though, if I were a witch, I wouldn't be a guy at all, so...”

Genos looked over to Mumen for backup in this debate, “Do you hear that? She mocks me.  _ That _ is fairly witchy behavior, if you ask me.”

“If I may cut in,” Mumen raised a finger, “I can personally vouch for this man’s character. He helped me down from a pole I was nailed to for I-don't-know-how long, and he's gonna help me get a brain! Not only that, but he just revived you! Now, why would a Witch of Terror do such nice things for no benefit?” He spread his arms out wide, beaming, “That don't add up, even to someone like me!” He clapped his hands together, “So he's on the up and up, you see.”

Genos blinked, surprised by the amount of sense that reasoning made, but not quite willing to believe it, “But… if that is true… why does he have those…?”

“Oh, I killed her,” Saitama replied nonchalantly.

“You… what?” Genos’ mouth hung agape.

“I killed her, the Tornado Witch of Terror. I punched her in the face and she fell and got crushed by a wall. I stole her gloves and she melted into this minty toothpaste-looking stuff,” he explained, then winced a bit, “Looking back, that part was kinda gnarly…”

“You… killed...”

Genos dropped to his knees with a hard clank, face both in awe and completely bewildered.

Saitama stood there awkwardly. “Uh… yeah, I did. You… okay?”

“I… I am not sure…” He then shook himself, joints of his neck creaking, “I mean, yes, I am grateful that she is dead, that is joyous news, but… I am not sure what to do with myself now. I have dedicated... so  _ many _ years of my life to revenge… what else  _ could _ I…”

“You could pursue other interests,” Mumen advised, “like painting or collecting stamps. You know, follow your heart!”

“Follow my…” he pressed his hands to his chest, “No. That is not a possibility for me.”

He crooked his head, a leaf drifting off it, “Why not?”

He knocked against his chest, producing a few echoey whams.

“No heart. All hollow.”

“No heart?”

He went into further detail, “When the tinsmith Kuseno was building me this new body, I told him not to give me a heart. I thought sentimentality would distract from my mission. But now that my mission has technically been fulfilled… I am… empty.”

The standing pair exchanged looks. They nodded to each other, not even having to suggest it out loud.

Saitama got down on one knee offered their proposal, “Hey, tin man, we’re going to the Emerald City to ask for some brains and a way home from the wizard there. You wanna come with us to see if you can get a heart?”

“The Emerald City? That is an extensive and dangerous journey. And how do we know he will even listen to our requests?” he pointed out.

His brows furrowed in irritation at the hypothetical. “Well he better, we've come such a long way already…”

Mumen shrugged,  “Besides, even if he doesn't, you'd be no worse off coming along with us than you are hanging around here.”

“Hmm… that is true…” Genos held his china chin in thought.

“Oh, I've got that witch’s sister on my tail, though, if that changes anything,” Saitama let him know.

“The Blizzard Witch of Hell is after you?” He shot up to his feet with a clang, eyes narrowing, “That decides it then. I will accompany you to the Emerald City, if not for a heart, then at least to repay you for your benevolence with my protection.”

Saitama stood as well and offered him a hand to shake, “I don't think that's necessary, but all the same, welcome aboard.”

Genos let it stay there a moment, cautious about touching  _ those _ gloves. Their surfaces shimmered like dancing flames, red as blood, just as they had four years ago. But the plain face of the man attached to them and his tiny smile held such a genuine, open quality that he was compelled to accept.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Mumen slung his arms over the two of them, flopping in typical scarecrow fashion, “Aw, look, we’ve got our own little group forming here! Isn’t it nice?”

Rover barked and bounced happily.

Yes, Saitama supposed it was. It was nice having some people to talk to, to give him the time of day, to even just breathe the same air as him. It was something he hadn’t gotten back home in a long, long time...


End file.
